Work

Close by the careless worker's side,

Still patient stands

The Carpenter of Nazareth

With piercèd hands

Outstretched to plead unceasingly,

His Love's demands.

Longing to pick the hammer up

And strike a blow,

Longing to feel His plane swing out,

Steady and slow,

The fragrant shavings falling down

Silent as snow.

Because this is my Work, O Lord,

It must be Thine,

Because it is a human task

It is divine.

Take me, and brand me with Thy Cross,

Thy slave's proud sign.

-- G.A. Studdert Kennedy

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